


Another Teenage Drama

by Melodious329



Series: Teenage Drama [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Sam and Dean are not brothers: Sam and Dean are unrelated teenagers. Dean is the jock and Sam is the brain and Dean's new tutor. But Dean has a secret, will Sam be able to help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Teenage Drama

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the show or characters. THis is completely a product of my imagination

Sam sat in the small classroom, checking his watch every other second. Jock boy was late. Of course, Dean probably thought that his time was more important than Sam's own. Dean was captain of the football, basketball, and baseball teams and Sam was only the smart kid drafted to keep him from failing and getting kicked off all three teams.

He huffed a little as he saw the person in question hurrying toward the door. It didn't help Sam's mood that Dean was, in a word, gorgeous. Sam had come out to his friends and family two years ago, momentarily making himself a target for scorn at school. Fortunately, in high school everybody hates everybody and the bullies had mostly moved on. Of course, Sam's father hadn't moved on.

Sam loved his father, he loved his family. He had been adopted at six months old, and Ellen and William (?) and even his younger sister, Jo were all the family he had ever known or wanted. He hadn't ever felt out of place, like he didn't belong, until he hit thirteen. These days it felt like Sam and his father couldn't be in the same room for more than five seconds without fighting. Sam felt like his dad didn't understand him at all, like his dad wanted him to be someone else, someone like Dean.

Sam was scowling as Dean burst into the room. "Sorry…" Dean started.

The blonde didn't get any further than that. Taking out his frustration on the first person available, Sam's voice was already loud and angry when he started speaking. "Listen, don't waste my time. I'm doing you a favor with these tutoring sessions so try to be on time."

Dean looked actually contrite, making Sam regret his harsh words. "I know and I do appreciate it. I really need your help."

Sam sighed and relented, gesturing to the seat across from him. Dean sat down gingerly.

Dean did need Sam's help. If he failed Algebra II, then he would be kicked off the football team and then his father would make this last weekend look like summer camp. His legs were so sore that he could barely walk. After the game on Friday, his father had said that Dean looked out of shape and had run the teen into the ground all weekend, including this morning. Dean hadn't even had time to eat breakfast and his stomach was growling loudly.

Sam heard the other teen's stomach and scowled again. If Dean thought that he was gonna wait some more while the jock went to get food, the blonde was sorely mistaken.

With effort, Sam reined in his frustration and tried speaking again. "Look, let's just start over. I'm Sam." The taller boy extended his hand across the table.

"Dean." They shook and then Dean was pulling out his book, calculator, and notebook. "So Sammy…"

"It's Sam," the brunette automatically replied. He hated it when people called him that nickname. Sammy was a chubby twelve year old that he didn't need to be reminded of.

But Dean smiled at Sam's reaction, a full-out smile bright enough to stop traffic. Sam thought that the sight of that smile might actually be worth letting Dean call him Sammy, not that he would ever admit that.

Trying desperately not to smile back, Sam turned to his own backpack. "So let's begin at the beginning, shall we?"

The session actually went pretty well after that. Dean was distracted, but not stupid. In fact it seemed to Sam that all the other teen really needed was some individual attention.

Dean at first had been hesitant to ask questions, not wanting to appear any more stupid than he already did. But Sam seemed to understand, going over the material slowly and having Dean work examples.

The only problem was Dean's attention span. He couldn't help it, his stomach was turning itself inside out and his legs were sore and cramping every time he took a breath. Occasionally, Sam would look over at him with those puppy-dog eyes, eyes that said 'are you ok' without voicing the words. Dean would just shake his head and try to focus again, trying to also ignore the way his heart stuttered to see Sam concerned over him.

After practice that day, Dean went home to an empty house. Not that that was unusual. He and his father lived on what used to be called the 'wrong side of the tracks', a run down two bedroom house in an unsafe area.

It had been just his father and him since Dean was four when his mother died. John hadn't taken her death well and started drinking too much. Dean tried his best to take care of his father.

Tonight was no different and Dean set about making dinner before his father got home from the body-shop where he worked. Dean had clung to his father, unwilling to lose the remaining member of his family, even when John became more of a drill-sergeant and a drunkard than a father.

He knew that his father only wanted Dean to be the best. John was just 'toughening' his boy up, for Dean's own good.

Dinner was already ready when the phone rang. It was Bobby, the owner of the body-shop. The man used to be a friend to John, but now was a sort of surrogate father to Dean.

"Hey boy, how was school?"

Dean laughed. "Boring as usual."

Bobby laughed as well before his tone sobered. "Listen, John won't be home for dinner. He headed to the bar straight from work, again."

"Oh, ok. No big deal."

"Listen…"

Dean cut the older man off. It was a speech he had heard plenty of times before. "Its fine, Bobby."

A huff sounded down the line, before Bobby spoke again. "Well if you need anything…"

"I know where you are, Bobby, but its fine."

Dean wrapped the rest of the food in foil and put it in the refrigerator in case his father was hungry later and then set about eating his own dinner. He thought maybe he'd make muffins for tomorrow. And maybe his father wouldn't come home drunk and madder than hell tonight.

The next morning Sam was again waiting in the small study room, but that was because the brunette liked to be early. Looking out the window in the door, he was surprised to see an on-time Dean striding jovially through the hallway, chatting with a few of the students there already.

Once in the door, Dean dropped a bag in front of the brunette. "Hey, brought you some muffins." Sam saw that the blonde himself was already munching on one and so the brunette reached into the bag and tasted one.

"Hey these are pretty good. Your mom make these?"

Dean's smile faltered only for a moment but long enough for Sam to notice. "Nah, I made 'em myself."

Sam almost choked on his muffin. He had so not imagined that Dean would be the baking type. And the muffin really was good.

"Oh, well…thanks."

The blonde just shrugged and sat down. He was feeling better today. His father hadn't come home at all last night so there had been no more drills, no fresh bruises. And Sam was smiling at him.

Dean didn't know why Sam was affecting him so much. The brunette was just so different from the people he usually hung out with, and, yeah, Sam was definitely attractive. Guess the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

But there was no way that anything could happen between them. Dean had known he was gay since forever…but his dad didn't. And his dad wouldn't know, ever.

Sam was watching Dean across the cafeteria. Jock boy was quite surprising. Looking at him Sam wouldn't know it though. Dean was beautiful and popular, surrounded by other enormous jocks and, of course, girls. One girl in particular was hanging all over him, Dean's latest girlfriend. She was a cheerleader, of course, and another in a long line of short, meaningless relationships as far as Sam could tell.

But after a week of tutoring sessions, Sam was no longer sure that Dean was only what he seemed. Sometimes Sam could see flashes of pain in the blonde's big green eyes. Not just the pain that caused Dean to wince when he moved sometimes, but something else, something more.

Sam saw it despite Dean's attempt to be constantly upbeat. The jock had a childish sense of humor but Sam found himself laughing anyway. For some reason, Sam found himself laughing a lot in Dean's presence, feeling light and at ease. It was almost as if Dean was trying to comfort him.

Sam was brought out of his thoughts when a large shadow fell across his face. Looking up, he was unsurprised to see the face of a very large, very stupid linebacker looking down at him with a sneer.

"What're you looking at? You got the hots for Deanie-boy?" The jock snorted. "Figures that you fairies would be wet for a real man…"

The teasing was interrupted when the larger teen was shoved forcefully out of Sam's face.

"Hey! Lay off, dude, that shit's not funny."

Sam almost gave himself whip-lash as he turned his head at the sound of Dean's now-familiar deep drawl.

"What's with you, Dean? He's a fag."

"I don't care what else he is, he's my tutor and I kinda need him, so lay off."

Sam was even more amazed when he felt Dean's hand grip his shoulder. Dean was defending him. Why?

They both watched as the burly teen left. Then Sam's attention returned to Dean, who had removed his hand, but was still looking at Sam and smiling.

"So Sammy…"

The brunette clenched his jaw to keep the smile off his lips. Dean, however, saw Sam's lips twitch and his own smile became wider in response.

"It's Sam…"

"There's this party tonight after the game at Brooke's place, thought you might like to come. You can bring your friends too." Dean added quickly, gesturing at Jess and the others at the table.

Sam answered quickly, maybe too quickly if the knowing light in Dean's eyes was any indication. "Sure. Uh…where is it?"

"Oh, here," Dean said as he reached over the table and picked up Sam's pen and notebook. He wrote down some directions quickly and then, as an afterthought, wrote down his cell number. "There, call me if you get lost or anything. See you there."

With a smile and a wave at the rest of the table Dean was gone, leaving Sam practically drooling after the blonde's rear view.

Dean smiled to himself as he walked away. He knew that Sam was watching and it was nice to know that the attraction wasn't one-sided. Dean knew that he was good-looking and he wasn't above using it. But he was like an Easter egg a week after the holiday, still beautiful on the outside but rotten in the middle.

Maybe he shouldn't have invited Sam to the party. It had been a spur of the moment decision. He had just wanted to help the guy out, make sure the guy had a little fun. But maybe Dean should stay away from Sam, leave the geek to his own, probably very happy, apple pie life. But maybe Dean couldn't help himself, couldn't help wanting a little happiness for himself.

Sam stood outside Brooke's house, watching the party through the windows.

"Come on," Jess nudged his shoulder to help her message across. "Let's go in."

Sam nodded but didn't step forward until the blonde girl laughed and grabbed his arm to pull him forward.

"Sam, what's the big deal?"

He simply shook his head. The big deal? The big deal was that Sam had a crush on a guy who was totally off-limits.

Jess's voice was soft when she spoke again. "Sam, he's just being nice. Don't read anything into it, you'll just end up hurt."

Sam nodded. He really was making too big a deal of this. Jess and he would go in there and actually have some fun and hopefully nobody would question why they were at the party.

Besides, Sam smiled to himself, if anybody hassled them, maybe Dean would just come to his rescue again.

When they entered the front door, the crowd of people seemed stifling. It was like a wall of heat and noise and people wandering about with plastic cups in their hands.

Sam's eyes flickered about the room, until they came to rest on Dean, striding over to them with two cups in his hands. Sam smiled in anticipation.

"Hey guys, glad you could make it. Oh, here, have a drink." Dean passed the two cups over to Sam and Jess. He did it just in time too, since a second later one of the other football players was attacking Dean with a monster hug.

"Dean," the teen slurred. "Great game, man."

"Hey, Riley…" Dean was interrupted when the teen holding onto him suddenly pitched forward. "Riley…?"

"Dude, I don't feel so hot…"

Dean spared a smile up at Sam and Jess before starting to lead the teen away, presumably to a bathroom. "Sorry guys, have fun!" He called behind him.

Sam watched him go with an odd sense of pride and when he turned to Jess, she was smiling up at him.

"I can see why you like him, Sam. He actually seems to be a really great guy."

Later, Dean slipped away from the commotion into one of the upstairs bedrooms. He had brought a bottle of Jack Daniels with him, half empty. He rarely drank, but after the game this afternoon, Dean was determined to have as much fun as possible before tomorrow. Because tomorrow he was really going to get it.

They had won the game, they always won, but Dean had thrown an interception. It hadn't made any difference to the score, the other team couldn't capitalize on his mistake, but that wouldn't matter to his father.

So yeah, Dean intended to get drunk tonight and he was well on his way there. He took a seat on the bed, getting comfortable because he really didn't want to be around people, even though they were his friends. Right, they didn't know anything about him. Dean was tired of having to hide all the time, who he was and what was going on.

He had just gotten comfortable when the door opened. Sam glanced in, looking for the bathroom, when he noticed that it was a bedroom and someone was in there.

"Sorry…Oh, Dean, it's you." Then the fact that the other teen was sitting alone in a darkened room sunk into Sam's brain, and he stepped fully into the room. "Hey what's up?"

Even in the dark, Sam could see that Dean smiled at that, but it was that fake smile that was so often on Dean's face when he was in the middle of a crowd. Then Dean got off the bed, walking noticeably unsteadily over to Sam.

"Hey Sammy," Dean's speech was also slurred. "Have a drink."

Sam took the bottle from Dean, but didn't drink from it. "No thanks, Dean." He did not tell the other teen that he had had enough though Sam wanted to. Sam knew that to a drunken person that would just be a cue to become belligerent. He simply set the bottle aside.

Dean took a step closer and stumbled, Sam reaching out to catch the shorter teen.

"Dean, really, are you ok?"

Dean just laughed, an oddly distressed sound to Sam's ears, almost more like a sob. Unconsciously, Sam held Dean a little tighter, pulled the other teen a little closer.

Dean stilled, the reality of their physical proximity suddenly penetrating his addled brain. Tilting his face upwards, he looked into Sam's eyes before gripping the other teen's head and pulling the brunette down into a kiss.

Sam was stunned, but responded immediately. It was exactly what he had wanted and he couldn't help his own hands going around the other teen's waist. Dean's lips were soft and he was warm and more pliant than Sam had thought he would be. Dean smelled of musk and spice and…alcohol.

That was when Sam came to his senses. Dean didn't know what he was doing, he was drunk. Sam had to stop this, as much as he didn't want to, he didn't want Dean to hate him later.

Gently, he lifted his hands up to grip Dean's biceps and pushed the shorter teen away. They were still close, close enough for Sam to clearly see the pain and rejection in Dean's wide eyes.

"No, Dean, I want you. If you still want this, try it again when you're sober."

The blonde teen must have understood, because Dean nodded and then stepped back. Sam felt wrong leaving Dean alone in the room and drunk, but he knew he needed to distance himself from Dean. If Dean made another move on him, Sam didn't think that he would be able to turn it down a second time.

Sam was freaking out. It was Monday morning and Sam was waiting in the small study room, waiting for Dean. He wondered if Dean would even show and if he did, whether he would beat the shit out of Sam.

He watched as Dean strode toward the room. The jock didn't look mad enough to kill, though Dean was walking slowly, stiffly like he had torn something.

Standing as Dean came into the room, Sam was practically blinded by the brightness of the other teen's smile. Before he had even wrapped his mind around that, though, Dean was moving towards him, gripping the back of Sam's head just as he had done that night and kissing the taller teen.

It didn't last nearly as long as Sam wanted it to. Then Dean pulled back, but stayed inside Sam's personal space. The confusion and want must have shown on Sam's face judging by Dean's next words.

"You said to kiss you again when I was sober. Well, I'm sober."

Dean kissed him again, but this time it was Sam who pulled back after a long moment.

"We still need to study." Sam thought it was adorable how Dean's face fell at those words and so he quickly continued. "Wanna come over to my house after practice?"

Dean smiled and stole one last kiss before they sat down at the table again. On opposite sides of the table for good measure.

Dean rang the doorbell of a pale yellow two-story house in a disturbingly Norman Rockwell-like neighborhood. He couldn't believe that he was doing this, but he was done, done giving up everything that he wanted. He did everything his father wanted and the man still was never happy. So Dean was going to have something that made him happy and that something was Sam.

And Sam really did make Dean happy. They didn't even know each other all that well, but Dean had never felt anything like their kiss that morning. And now he felt like butterflies were trying to climb up his throat as he waited what he thought was an inordinately long time, even for a house that size.

Finally the door opened, to reveal a cute blonde girl maybe two years younger than Sam.

"Hey, Dean. Come on in," the girl said smiling widely and obviously checking him out. Dean lifted an eyebrow in amusement before focusing on the shouting coming from somewhere further inside the house.

Sighing, the girl shut the door and led him towards the sound, which turned out to be coming from the kitchen. Dean was stunned at the sight before him. Sam was across the kitchen island from his father and they were both yelling.

Dean would never, ever yell at his father. Always trying to be a good son, Dean followed all of John's orders. Fascinated, he listened to what they were fighting about.

"Sam, all I said was maybe being part of a team would be good for you."

"Dad, I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I am not interested in sports. I do not want to go out for soccer or any other sport! Why can't you be happy that I'm interested in school?"

"I am happy for you, but I just want you to be well-rounded, to get some exercise, make some friends…"

Suddenly they noticed that someone else was in the room. Dean smiled sheepishly and readjusted his backpack.

Sam took a deep breath before walking closer to Dean.

"Dad, this is Dean, the football quarterback I'm tutoring. I'm sure his dad is very proud of him." Sam spoke with venom dripping from his lips.

Dean felt distinctly out of place, but stepped forward to offer his hand to the older man. He was certain that his father was not, in fact, proud of him. After shaking hands, Sam led them up the stairs.

Upstairs, Sam was having difficulty calming down after his fight with his dad, but he didn't want to make Dean any more uncomfortable.

"Sorry about that."

"Nah, dads…what are you gonna do?"

Sam scoffed. "Yeah I'm sure your dad's real upset with you, life as a football star has gotta be tough. What with all the guys at school looking up to you and the girls fawning over you and the teachers letting you get away with everything…"

Dean's smile felt wrong on his face. "Yeah, well if teachers let me get away with everything, why do I need you?"

Sam smiled, a real smile then. "Well I'm glad that you do need me."

Dean smiled back, backing the taller teen into the wall. "You are, huh?" He questioned teasingly before claiming the other teen's lips in a kiss.

That kiss quickly became more passionate than any of the preceding. And then Sam was pushing Dean's jacket off and lifting the hem of his t-shirt.

Sam gasped at what was revealed beneath Dean's long-sleeved shirt. The blonde's entire chest was a sheet of black, one huge bruise. Sam hadn't thought that Dean had been hit during Friday's game.

Dean was supremely uncomfortable, holding his bunched up t-shirt against his chest as if that would hide the bruises. Frankly he had forgotten all about them in the heat of the moment, but now he felt self-conscious. With girls it had been different, they had thought of them as a kind of 'war wound', just signs that he was a great player.

But the way Sam was looking at him, like Dean was precious and fragile, unexpectedly caused tears to prick at the back of Dean's eyes. When Sam kissed him again, Dean lost himself in it, letting Sam take the lead and push him back toward the bed.

Sam kept his hands gentle as they roamed over Dean's back. He had been right, Dean was so much more than what he seemed. The shorter teen was hesitant, almost demure and Dean seemed in such need of comfort.

Dean's hands were removing Sam's own shirt as Sam reached for the tab on Dean's jeans. Dropping the blonde's pants and boxers to the floor only revealed more bruising and Sam carefully pressed Dean onto the bed. Sam was moving down Dean's body, toward Dean's erect sex when Dean stopped him with hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Wait. Undress, I want to see you."

Sam smiled as he stood up, dropping his own pants before covering Dean's naked body with his own. Dean's arms were pulling Sam close as they kissed again, but Sam must have pressed too hard on the bruises covering Dean's chest as the teen groaned and not in bliss, turning his head away.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean's smile was a little sad when he turned back, but his words were consoling. "Nothing to worry about, Sammy."

Sam decided he liked it when Dean called him that during sex. He began to head southward again, but again Dean stopped him.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Fortunately there weren't any bruises there and Sam gripped the base of Dean's cock and sucked lightly on the head. When Dean groaned, this time it was in pleasure.

Sam's tongue followed the vein down and then back up before swirling it around the tip. Dean bent his knees instinctually, allowing Sam to have more room as he started a relentless rhythm.

Dean bit his lower lip to stifle the noises that threatened to erupt from his throat and tried desperately not to thrust his hips into that inviting heat. Sam laid a light and hopefully soothing hand on Dean's belly to steady the other teen, his other hand jerking his own sex. Sam came moments before Dean was warning him of Dean's own impending climax.

Three months later, they were again in Sam's bedroom, Sam kneeling between Dean's spread legs again as the blonde lay on the bed. This time while he was sucking on Dean's sex, Sam was gently inserting a spit-slickened finger into the blonde's rectum. Sam had never done this with anyone, but he desperately wanted to with Dean. And the way Dean was thrashing on the bed, holding Sam's pillow to his face to muffle the cries was encouraging, allowing Sam to hope that soon it would be his cock inside Dean. He wanted Dean to be his first and he wanted it to be special.

It had been a wonderful three months. Sam hadn't thought that he and Dean would have that much in common, and maybe they didn't, but they just fit. Sam had continued Dean's tutorage and Dean's Algebra grade had improved, allowing the blonde to continue playing football. They spent all of their free time outside of school, the little that Dean had, together, and usually at Sam's house.

It wasn't like Dean ignored Sam during school either. Dean hadn't come out and told everyone that they were seeing each other, but Dean did talk to him at school and the jock had stopped dating anyone else.

Sam hadn't expected Dean to come out. Dean was on all kinds of sports teams and Sam knew how disastrous it would be to Dean's place on those teams if he told everyone he was gay. Besides they were both seniors, soon they would go to college and Sam was hoping that they would end up there together. At a new college, where nobody knew them…Sam hoped that they could openly be a couple.

They were laying there after, after Dean had orgasmed with a cry and then returned the favor. In three months, Dean had also become quite comfortable giving Sam a blowjob. Dean was on his back and Sam on his side, gently running his hand down the blonde's chest, careful of the ever-present bruises.

"Hey I heard the there would be some scouts from Chapel Hill at the game on Friday."

Dean shifted uncomfortably so that he could look Sam in the eye.

"Yeah, you know, UNC is really close to Duke, where I'm applying. Maybe you could meet with the guy after the game."

"Sam, Chapel Hill is hours away from here. I can't go that far."

Sam sat up to look down at the other teen. "What do you mean?"

"I have to stay here, Sam, with my dad. He'd never allow me to go that far away."

Sam was stunned. He couldn't stay here and go to the local college. Sam had worked his whole life to get into a good school. And why did Dean work so hard if he didn't care about the recruiters?

"But here nothing will change, Dean. We'll still have to hide."

Dean sat up, but wouldn't look Sam in the eye. "I know Sam. And one day, God, one day I want to leave here and never look back, but my dad…"

"What, you can't do anything without your dad's permission, Dean?"

"Sam, you don't understand, he needs me."

"And you're not going to tell him about us. You are such a coward."

With that Dean stood up, quickly locating his clothes and getting dressed. He didn't speak to Sam. He was so angry, but like all the other times that Dean was angry or sad or felt anything, he kept silent.

Sam didn't speak either, didn't even look at Dean as the teen started to leave. He was too upset and he didn't want to say anything that he'd regret.

Dean paced the floor of his living room, waiting for his dad to come home. He was supposed to run drills tonight, John had been thinking that Dean's throwing arm seemed a little weak.

But his mind was definitely not on the drills. How could Sam call him a coward? Sam didn't know anything about fear. He didn't know what it was to be afraid all the time, afraid in his own home, afraid that someone would find out, afraid of his own father.

Crap, he was a coward. His dad was the only person Dean cared about, that Dean loved and he would do anything for the man. He had followed every order that John had ever given, not wanting to disappoint his father, wanting his Dad to love and be proud of him, wanting to make his father happy.

But now there was Sam, and Dean wanted just as badly to make Sammy happy. And Sam made Dean happy and Dean couldn't give that up. He was going to have to tell his dad.

Just then, the door slammed open, heralding his father's arrival. Dean steeled himself and walked forward.

John didn't even meet his son's eyes as he threw down his tool bag and lunch pail and then collapsed onto the easy chair. Out of habit, Dean went to the fridge, retrieving a beer which he opened and placed in his father's outstretched hand.

"What's for dinner? Need to hurry up so we can get to the park…"

John trailed off as he realized his son was not, in fact, busy finishing up dinner or bringing it to him or any of the domestic duties that Dean took care of.

He turned, meeting those green eyes as he so seldom did these days because he hated seeing the pain and uncertainty there.

"What's with you, Dean? I said…"

"We have to talk. I…I have something to say."

John stood then, moving to stand in front of his son, knowing that his additional height and bulk were intimidating the teen.

Dean took a deep breath, not thinking about what he was about to do, what he was going to say, just speaking as if on autopilot. "I'm gay and I'm…seeing someone. His name's Sam and I want…"

The backhand that struck Dean's right cheek was as painful as it was expected. He kept his face averted for a second as he took a deep breath through the pain. When he lifted his face again, he didn't get a chance to speak, though. The second blow caused Dean to stumble several steps back into the living room.

This time when he lifted his face, the distance between them allowed Dean to time to speak again. "And I'm not going to stop."

After that the blows became continuous. Punches landed on his face and stomach and lower back until Dean collapsed. He was falling towards the floor and then there was nothing but darkness.

Sam stood outside a small rundown house later that night. He felt unsafe just driving through this neighborhood, much less standing out there. This was the first time that Sam had ever been to Dean's house, though he hadn't realized that until just now.

He knocked and waited. And waited. He was about to leave when he heard what sounded like a pain-filled moan.

Sam moved to the window just to the right of the door. He felt like a fool but he had to have a look inside to make sure that Dean was ok. What he saw appalled him. Sam could see Dean lying on the floor in what appeared to be the living room, and there was blood on his face.

Moving quickly back to the door, Sam tried to turn the knob, shocked when it opened under his hand.

"Dean," Sam ran to the teen's side. Dean was trying to push himself up off the carpet with little success. Blood was still running down his face from a cut above Dean's right temple and blood was also pooled on the edge of the coffee table. Sam assumed that Dean had hit his head there.

But that wasn't all. The left side of Dean's face was already swollen and there was also blood running from Dean's nose and lips. And Dean was curled in on himself like he was protecting his belly, making Sam think of broken ribs or even worse, internal bleeding. This hadn't been an accident. Dean had been attacked.

"Dean, don't try to move," Sam's voice shook when he spoke. Sam reached out a hand to Dean's shoulder, sobbing when Dean flinched from his touch and whimpered.

"Dean, it's me. It's Sam."

Dean lifted his face up then and tried to focus on Sam's face. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me."

Dean tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace and a coughing fit, spraying droplets of blood onto Sam's shirt.

"I told him, I told Dad…about us."

"Your father did this? Dean, I'm so sorry…"

"Don't, Sammy. It's fine."

Sam sobbed again, but nodded, knowing that this wasn't the time for talking. "Dean, I'm going to call for help, ok?"

"No! Sam, I'm fine, don't…don't call anyone. No one…no one can know."

Sam had already started toward the phone on the kitchen wall, so he wasn't there to stop Dean when he pushed himself up off the floor. Dean stood there swaying, trying to talk, to tell Sam to leave him. He didn't want Sam to see him like this, to know what had happened.

Sam rushed forward when Dean's eyes rolled back in his head and his knees sagged. Before Dean hit the floor, Sam caught the shorter teen, lowering Dean to the ground.

"Dean," Sam's voice was louder and more agitated now. He cradled Dean's head in his lap and lightly tapped the less blemished cheek.

"Dean!" Sam was practically screaming now because Dean wasn't waking up. Seeing no other option, Sam maneuvered the other teen to lie on the floor so he could stand up and go to the phone again.

"Yes I need an ambulance…"

*************************************

Sam was pacing in the hospital waiting room when his parents got there. He had followed the ambulance in his own car. Dean had been taken straight into surgery to fix internal bleeding caused by a broken rib. It had gone well but it was the head injury that the doctors were really worried about. Dean had gone into a coma because of the swelling of his brain. There was nothing to do but wait and see if it went down.

Dean was being settled into a room when Sam's parents came right up to the tall teen and they both gave Sam a hug.

It was Sam's father who spoke first, wanting to put things right with his son, needing to let Sam know that he was here for the boy. William had been so scared when the hospital had phoned him, so frightened that it was Sam that had been hurt.

William had never thought less of his son for being a brainiac, or for being gay. He just wanted the best for Sam. He wanted things to be easy for his son and being gay in a world full of intolerance wasn't easy. All he had to do to confirm that was to think of the young man they had come to see, lying unconscious in a hospital bed. It sickened William to think of a child being hurt like that, having to endure that for years.

He held his son in his arms while Ellen stroked the teen's back. It was then that he saw the police talking to a rough looking man with gray hair and a beard. He assumed that the man was Dean's father when he listened to their conversation. Unfortunately, Sam noticed his attention had wandered and turned to look himself with tear filled eyes.

"John, this time we have to take you in. We've looked the other way too many times before…"

"I just need to see my son first…" The man's voice was a growl.

"I think you've done enough…"

"I need to see him!"

"Fine, just for a second."

Sam watched as John entered Dean's room. He could see what the man was doing in there through the slits in the blinds.

John stood by his son's hospital bed, looking down at the boy lying there. He moved his hand, wanting to stroke Dean's arm, but he was afraid to touch his son. It had been years since John had touched Dean not in anger.

Dean looked so much like his mother. That was really why John pushed the boy so hard, why he pushed Dean away. Dean was so sensitive, such a caring child that just wanted to take care of everyone, even John, even after everything that John had done. He wanted Dean to be ready for the harsh realities of the world.

John had just been so angry with the boy. He had been angry that Dean had been keeping secrets, that there was something about his son that John hadn't known. But he had been angrier that Dean was in love, that his son had found what John had lost all those years ago.

He left then with the officers, without touching his son.

Sam was livid that John had been allowed to see Dean. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that the man hadn't touched the blonde or even angrier. Dean was his son, how could he?

Sam went into Dean's room, his parents following behind. Dean looked so small in the bed, so still. What did John see when he looked at his son? Did the man see how fragile Dean was, how special and beautiful and wonderful?

Turning away, Sam started to cry again, choking back a sob. Unexpectedly, or so it seemed to Sam, his father was there to hold him again.

"I should have seen it, Dad, I should have known. He always had so many bruises, more bruises than even a football player should have. And some of the bruises were obviously boot shaped or a hand with a ring on it…"

"Sam, there was nothing you could have done. Dean obviously didn't want you to know. He was probably scared, hell, he probably thought he was protecting you."

They stood that way for a long time, Sam taking the comfort that his father offered and both feeling like it had been far too long.

"Sammy, I reckon."

Startled, both Sam and his father turned at the sound of a new voice in the room. It was another older gentleman in a baseball cap looking like he had just crawled out from underneath a car.

"Dean talks about you a lot," the man continued.

"Who are you?"

"A friend of Dean's father. Name's Bobby."

Sam's hackles were immediately raised. "Did you know about this?" he accused. "Did you know what Dean was going through?"

Bobby rubbed a hand over his face, a familiar gesture to those who knew him. "Yeah I knew. I've known for a long time. Ya know, I must've asked Dean a hundred times to move in with me over the years, but the stubborn mule always refused. Said his daddy needed him."

Sam watched as the man moved towards the bed. Bobby touched Dean without hesitation, the back of his knuckles stroking across the blonde's forehead. Then the man took a seat in the chair by the bed and gripped Dean's hand.

The taller teen moved around the bed to another chair as Bobby started to talk again. It was almost as if Bobby needed to talk about Dean, needed to tell others of the boy's wonderful qualities that nobody ever got to see.

And Sam, for his part, was entranced by the stories of Dean's childhood. Dean had never spoken about his childhood or his father to Sam though Sam had told the other teen everything about his own life.

"That boy's a better son than John deserved, that's for sure. Dean's been picking up the slack ever since his momma died. Mary's death just broke John, ya know? Dean was four at the time. The boy just stopped talking for four months. Still, Dean tried to take care of John. He'd come up to his father when John was sitting in the recliner feeling sorry for himself. Dean would hand John a granola bar without a word, reminding his daddy to eat."

Bobby shook his head. "Poor kid was traumatized. They both saw Mary die in a freak accident."

The man stopped talking for a minute, obviously choking back tears. "Dean saved me, you see. My wife…died too, years ago, but Dean…just keeping an eye out for the kid, seeing what he went through and he still managed to keep a smile on his face, well, it gave me strength. I didn't see any bruises on the boy until Dean was eight, but he did Pee-Wee Football…But then I saw John making the boy run drills like Dean was in the majors instead of a little boy. That's when I knew."

Sam was crying openly by the time Bobby paused in his speech.

"God, I feel like I don't know him at all."

Bobby fixed Sam with a hard knowing stare. "Don't doubt that he cares for you, Sam. That's just how Dean is, another thing you can blame on his daddy. John was always 'don't cry', 'suck it up', and 'emotion is weakness'. He just didn't want you to worry about him, to feel sorry for him."

"You knew…about us?"

Bobby nodded, a small smile turning his lips upwards. "Not that he told me, but the way he spoke about you, the smile on his face and the look in his eye…Mary used to look the same when she looked at John."

Sam's father was looking from his son to the other man and back again. "Sam, you were seeing Dean? As in dating?"

Sam nodded before bursting into a fresh round of tears. "He didn't want his dad to know and I told him…I told him that he was a coward."

Bobby dropped his head to his chest while William started rubbing Sam's back again. They all knew how deep that barb had hit.

"You didn't know, Sam," his father whispered. "I'm sure he'll understand…"

"If he wakes up," Sam sobbed.

********************************************

It had been a week since Sam had found Dean beaten half to death in his own home. Sam had come to the hospital every day since, sometimes to sit with Dean for hours and sometimes just a few minutes, but he just had to see the other teen, to make sure Dean was still breathing.

More often than not Bobby had been there each time Sam had come. The other man rarely left Dean's bedside, reading a magazine or watching the television. And sometimes Sam would see him stroking a hand through Dean's hair or just hanging onto Dean's hand as if also reminding himself that Dean was still there.

The football team had been there, and the basketball team and the baseball team. Hell, most of the school had turned out at one point or another. Sam wished that Dean knew how many people cared for him.

It had been a week when Dean woke up. The actual event was rather anticlimactic. Both Sam and Bobby had just been sitting by the bed when Dean started to shift restlessly. And then he just opened his eyes.

Sam stood up immediately, hovering over the other teen.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?"

"Sit down, boy, and give Dean a minute to breathe." Bobby's voice stunned Sam, he had forgotten all about the other man, but he heeded the advice and stepped back.

Dean's long eyelashes fluttered against his pale and bruised cheeks for a moment before opening fully. Sam waited with baited breath until the green eyes focused on his face.

Dean tried to speak, but it only resulted in a fit of coughing because his throat was so dry. Bobby was there with a cup of water and a straw.

Looking from one face to the other, Dean tried to remember why exactly Bobby and Sam were there and staring at him. He also felt like shit, but Dean figured he knew why that was. Then he realized he was in the hospital.

That freaked him out, he hated the hospital. There were always too many questions. Even when he was there legitimately for a sports injury, the doctors were always asking about this bruise or that cut that looked suspicious.

Then Dean remembered what had happened. He remembered Sam calling him a coward, telling his father, the rage on his father's face, so much more anger than normal, and more pain than ever before.

Sam saw the sudden fear come over Dean's face and knew that Dean remembered. But seeing Dean's fear didn't take away Sam's relief that Dean remembered, that Dean even recognized them.

"Whoa there, boy. Just settle back, Dean." Bobby pushed lightly against the teen's chest trying to get Dean to relax against the pillows again.

"Dad…" Dean managed to choke out.

Bobby sighed while Sam turned away in revulsion. How could Dean even ask about that bastard? Why did Dean still care?

"Sam had to call the ambulance, Dean. You've been in a coma for a week."

Sam's eyes were filled with tears when he turned back to look at Dean who was staring quizzically back. Their gazes held for a long moment before Dean's eyes became filled with shame and he turned back to look at Bobby.

"John almost killed you, boy! They booked him."

Dean dropped his eyes to the blanket and shook his head. Bobby knew what the teen was trying to say.

"I know, Dean. He'll be getting out because you're not going to testify, but dammit, you're not going back to that house. You're coming home with me."

Dean basically collapsed back on the bed, his head rolling to the side to evade both sets of eyes. Sam couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Dean, I'm so sorry. I didn't think…I didn't know…"

Dean wouldn't look at him.

"Dean, please, don't hate me." Sam's voice was a pathetic plea.

That got a reaction. Dean turned wide agonized eyes on him.

"Sammy…I don't hate you…I hate this." He made a helpless gesture with his hands, as if trying to encompass everything with that one word.

Sam sat back down on the chair and grasped Dean's hand, feeling relieved. That feeling only lasted a moment, though, as Dean jerked his hand away, suddenly angry.

"Don't," Dean hissed. "How can you stand to touch me? Get out! Both of you, get out."

Shaking hands lifted to cover Dean's face and the tears that had welled in green eyes.

Sam moved his chair closer to the bed, not wanting to stand up and tower over the obviously distraught teen but wanting to be close all the same.

He assumed that he spoke for Bobby too when he said, "Dean, we're not going anywhere."

Dean raised eyes that had not allowed any tears to fall. "Why do you care? My own father hates me…I did everything he ever asked. I gave him everything I had…"

He shook his head then as if trying to dispel those thoughts.

Bobby stepped forward then. "Dean, this is John's fault, not yours. It didn't matter what you did, John just…couldn't see past his own pain. It was never your fault."

Dean dropped his head a little, staring at his hands as they lay on the blanket. Finally he nodded.

Then Dean turned his head to look at Sam. "Why are you here? You didn't exactly sign up for this, I'll understand if you don't…"

Sam just couldn't stop touching Dean, so he reached again for Dean's hand. This time Dean didn't pull away but Sam could feel the stiffness in Dean's entire body just from the hand that he touched.

"I couldn't leave you, baby. I don't want to."

Immediately, Dean's lips twitched and then he broke into a full-out smile.

"Baby?" he queried.

Sam smiled too before quickly averting his own eyes by looking downward. He hadn't exactly meant to say that, the word had just come out. It wasn't that he didn't mean it, Sam certainly thought that way about Dean, felt like protecting the other teen and possessing him. But Sam didn't particularly feel like being ridiculed, or told by Dean that things weren't that serious between them.

Then his gaze fell upon their interlocked hands. Whatever Dean's words were saying, Dean's body was definitely holding on.

Lifting his gaze to Dean's green eyes that were both amused and embarrassed, Sam answered in a light voice, "My baby." He gave Dean's hand a squeeze.

And to Sam's amazement, though Dean's voice was just as light, his eyes were serious. "Yeah?"

All the humor left Sam then and he answered in all seriousness, "Yeah."

They stared at one another, before the glint of amusement reappeared in Dean's eyes, and frankly, Sam was glad to see it. It said more about Dean's state of mind that gushing confessions.

"Possessive much?" Dean bantered.

***************************************************

It was the night of prom, the day after Sam and Dean had graduated from high school. Sam led a bewildered Dean along the hotel corridor to the room he had booked for them. It had been one helluva year.

Dean had had to stay in the hospital for another three days before they had let him out. The teen had practically been climbing the walls by then.

John had come by. He'd been released after Dean had given his statement that he had no idea what had attacked him. John had told Dean that he was going to rehab, that it was a good idea for them to be apart for a while. But he had promised to come back.

Dean had taken the news silently, like an obedient son. He had been quiet the rest of the day, but soon was back to joking and complaining, covering his pain with smiles.

Bobby had been great. His house was a wreck and his yard filled with wrecked cars, but Dean loved learning to work on the cars. Bobby loved Dean and Dean, for all that he pined for his father, loved and respected Bobby.

They'd both been nervous when Dean went back to school. Everyone had known what had happened; that Dean's father had beat him and not just that one time. They also knew why.

Dean hadn't seemed to care much about people knowing that he and Sam were together. It hurt him to see the looks of pity everyone gave him, however.

That didn't last long, though. Dean went back to football and he was even better than before. He was stronger and faster and more focused since he wasn't tired and sore and bruised any more.

Soon that was all anyone saw: an impressive athlete with a ready smile and a wicked sense of humor, who charmed his way into and out of trouble on a weekly basis, a good kid who had triumphed over a difficult childhood.

Sam pulled a giggling, that's right, giggling Dean into the hotel room. Bobby had helped him with the idea and set up a few things in the room. Sam had wanted it to be special. He pulled back the hotel bedspread and then pushed Dean down onto the bed.

Dean gasped as he was pressed down into the mattress by Sam's larger form. Sam no longer had to worry about hurting the other teen and he took full advantage of that fact, grinding down into Dean.

Sitting up to kneel over Dean, Sam reached over to the bedside table and picked up the rose that Bobby had left there. At the sight of it, Dean turned an adorable shade of red.

"Sammy, you shouldn't have. Really, you shouldn't have."

Sam laughed softly. Dean had already been embarrassed that night when he had been named the prom king. Sam could only hope that someone had gotten a picture of Dean's face in that moment.

He leaned down to press a kiss to Dean's plush lips and then sat back up. The red of the rose was a stark contrast to the paleness of the skin of Dean's cheek and Dean's eyes were emerald in comparison.

"I love you, Dean, and I want to make love with you."

Dean visibly swallowed, looking up with wide vulnerable eyes, but Sam didn't give the other teen any chance to respond before he was kissing Dean again. Sam didn't want Dean to say the words because he felt obligated to, and so he took away the pressure for Dean to respond.

Besides, Sam had further plans for this evening.

Sitting up again, Sam stripped off his shirt. Dean put his hands up to caress the smoothness of Sam's belly immediately, as if drawn by a magnet. His thumb ruffled the line of hair there.

Dean sat up obligingly as Sam removed his shirt. Then Sam was nipping at his lips before pushing him down and moving to his jaw and then his earlobe, sucking it lightly before grazing his teeth along it. Dean's moan was a whisper along Sam's cheek and Sam smiled.

With one hand, he was tipping Dean's head back, exposing the blonde's throat to Sam's avid kisses. Sam sucked on Dean's neck but not hard enough to bruise. Sam never wanted to see bruises on Dean again.

The other hand was pushing Dean's left arm up above the teen's head. Switching his attentions, Sam ran his tongue over and then nipped at the sensitive skin along the clearly delineated bicep. Dean moaned again, louder this time and tossed his head to the side.

Sam repeated the action on the other arm with the same result before moving down Dean's arm to his chest. He nipped the curve of Dean's pec muscle but conspicuously avoided the other teen's nipples until Dean was arching under him and into him, wanting that touch. Sam slid his right arm under the curve of Dean's back, holding the other teen in the arch as he lowered his lips to the right nipple, first licking lightly and then drawing the nub into his mouth and sucking.

Gasping, the tendons in his neck taut with strain, Dean thrust his hips against Sam's weight, searching for that needed friction, but Sam's other hand was there, pushing Dean's hips back to the mattress.

Dean worked his throat convulsively and fisted the sheet as if trying to hold on while Sam worked him over. Finally Sam moved down, pressing moist kisses to the flat abdomen. Dean panted as Sam's mouth neared the waist band of his jeans. Dean knew well how that mouth felt around his cock and he was eager to reacquaint himself with the feeling.

Dean groaned in frustration when Sam pulled away, but the other teen simply smiled down as he stood up to strip off both his own and Dean's pants and boxers. Dean sat up then, loving the sight of Sam and wanting to touch. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around what Sam saw in him, particularly now that Sam knew everything but Dean wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth.

Sam got back onto the bed but he only gave Dean's mouth a quick kiss before reaching over to get something from the bedside table. He looked searchingly into Dean's eyes as he held up a bottle of lube and a condom.

"Dean…"

"I want to, Sam. I want this with you."

For a moment it was Dean taking the lead, pulling Sam's head down into an ardent kiss and running his hands over every patch of skin that he could reach. Dean had had sex before, but never like this. It wasn't even about being on the 'bottom', it was about Dean loving Sam enough that he let Sam take control, trusting Sam enough to let himself be taken care of.

It wasn't long before Sam was pulling back, taking over again as he pushed Dean's legs back into his chest.

In Dean's wide green eyes, Sam could see such trust and openness, more than he thought Dean would ever show and it made Sam pray that he was worthy of it. Flipping open the cap of lube, Sam coated one finger liberally before pressing it to Dean's entrance.

Dean jumped at his touch. Sam held perfectly still in response until he heard Dean chuckle a little breathlessly.

"Cold," Dean said in explanation.

Sam smiled then and pressed in, encouraged when Dean bit his full lower lip in response. Bending his head to Dean's sex, Sam worked the finger in and out slowly until he could slide it all the way in. Then he added another.

Dean gasped at the larger intrusion, but then made no other sounds so Sam continued to prepare the other teen. When the digits were sliding in and out, more or less easily, Sam lifted his mouth from Dean's cock and opened the condom wrapper. He was acutely aware of Dean's eyes on him as Sam unrolled the condom over his own sex. Then he whispered, "Turn over."

Their eyes met before Dean complied, turning onto his stomach and spreading his thighs slightly. Sam immediately covered Dean's body with his own, not wanting Dean to feel alone or exposed in any way during this.

Sam leaned on his left hand as he positioned his own cock at Dean's entrance with his right. He was surprised when Dean covered his hand with Dean's own, intertwining their fingers.

Pushing in, Sam was overwhelmed by the tightness. It was difficult just to press the head of his cock inside Dean's body and Sam moaned at the sensation.

Dean hadn't made any noise or movements, so Sam pulled out a little and pressed in farther. That time Dean grunted in something resembling pain.

"Dean…?"

"Keep going, Sammy."

It hurt just a little but Dean was determined. He wanted this, he just needed to relax. Taking a deep and slightly shaky breath, Dean felt Sam's forehead come to rest against his shoulder. That helped to relax him and Sam slipped in a little deeper, drawing a groan from Dean's lips.

Sam moved, getting up slightly onto his knees for better leverage. Dean moaned as the change in position put more direct pressure on his prostate. Pressing in again, Sam tried to hit the same spot and was apparently successfully. His cock was sliding all the way in now and Sam was transfixed at the sight of being joined so intimately to Dean.

Dean had spread his legs wider. "Harder. Oh God, Sammy, harder!" Dean's voice was a cry.

Sam's voice was a low whisper close to Dean's ear, "Anything, Dean. Anything."

Dean shuddered in response. Sam's arms had gone fully around the other teen, pressing them tightly back to chest as Sam thrust deeper and harder, gaining speed as he became more comfortable.

Dean had gotten partially to his knees as well, pressing back into Sam's thrusts. Sam began stroking Dean's sex with his lubricant coated hand. Faster and faster, harder and harder, until Dean came with a cry of "Sammy, Fuck!", Dean's muscles becoming rigid, his back arching and his head thrown back.

Sam felt the warmth flood over his fist as he continued to thrust into Dean's body as it became lax, Dean's upper body coming to rest again on the bed. Sam's breath was hot as he panted against Dean's neck until he finally came with a choked groan, squeezing Dean perhaps painfully in his arms.

Thrusting lazily a few more times, Sam breathed, "God, baby, that was…"

Sam shook his head. He didn't have words. Gripping the base of the condom, Sam carefully pulled out. Dean had collapsed face first.

Sam pulled the condom off his softening member and leaned over the side of the bed to throw it in the trash can conveniently placed there. He also picked up the rose that had fallen off the bed before straightening back up.

Trailing the flower over Dean's back caused the blonde to shiver and then turn over onto his back. Sam threw a leg over Dean's and stroked the red petals over Dean's reddened lips before he gave in to temptation and rubbed his finger against them.

Dean grabbed his hand and kissed it before looking into Sam's eyes.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice was gruff and Sam thought it sounded like a man who had been well-fucked. That thought made Sam smile and he leaned over to kiss Dean's lips before the other teen could continue.

When Sam pulled back Dean was looking at him and there was so much in that gaze. There was such pain, and such love, and a plea for Sam to understand what Dean was trying to say when he didn't have the words either.

"I love you."

Sam had seen how difficult those words had been for Dean. He wished that things had been different, that things had been easier for Dean so that Dean would understand his own emotions, that Dean could comprehend how much he was loved, that Dean could believe how much he deserved that love.

But if things had been different then Dean wouldn't be the person that he was. Besides, Sam had plenty of time now to convince Dean. Sam had gotten a full ride to Duke on an academic scholarship and Dean had been recruited by UNC Chapel Hill. They would be together still and hopefully for a long time to come.

Sam knew that Dean normally slept on his stomach and so he wrapped his arms around Dean and rolled them so that Sam was on his back with Dean lying on top, his head on Sam's shoulder. Hopefully this would be the first night of many more to come.


End file.
